In Which Many Cups of Tea are Drunk
by kurushi
Summary: Submission for the F4 challenge. A bemused Howl follows Morgan through a door and into a crowded busy place, where they run across a young red-haired woman.


_Wordcount: 15115 (using google documents)_

_Disclaimer: Though I know these don't make fanfiction any more legal, I'd like to be polite here and say that I'm highly grateful to the Misses Takahasi and Wynne Jones for their delightful and magical creations. I'm very apologetic for anything in here that may detract from the radness of their work._

_Author's Notes: This is written solely as an entry for the Fan Fiction Fight To The Finish Challenge of 2010. I didn't intend to answer the call for this one, but when I got the idea of Morgan being a key character I just felt drawn to it. I've put far less effort into proofreading this, as I let it get way too close to the submissions date to do a proper job of it. I hope it's still enjoyable, and I'd love to hear any comments on any flaws. I am highly grateful to the judges who probably have a lot of reading ahead of them, and I wish all other entrants the best of luck. A huge thanks to Yasuhei and Vasey, who took quick peeks and helped me talk out some ideas.  
_

**In Which Many Cups of Tea are Drunk**

The Wizard Howl's wife had often remarked that there were two ways to do parenting; the easy way, and the effective way.

Unfortunately, no-one who truly knew Howl would ever mistake him as a particularly effective sort of person. Equally unfortunately (for Sophie, at least) was the fact that Howl typically found it easier to clean up after a disaster than to actually try and stop such accidents from occurring in the first place. This was not helped by the other fact; that it was usually Sophie who would end up doing the actual cleaning.

This was why Howl was sitting with his legs up, and a nice thick book resting open on one knee, while his four year old son padded in bare muddy feet back and forth across the living room of their moving castle. The boy was leaving chaos, mess, and small toy cars in his wake.

Morgan, the boy, had managed with the deliberation of serious playing, to knock over two potted plants, and a fire-poker. Muddying footprints left a trail beyond the pots – and a puddle of water between them – past a lumpy mountain made out of old research notes and spells – and towards the window beside the door. Thankfully, since his early toddling days, they'd taken to keeping the spell-powders high and in hard-to-reach places. But that hadn't, in the past, stopped Morgan from trying to reach them. He'd had some success very early in life with high and hard-to-reach places, and it had inspired him onto further attempts at similar achievements. All in the name of fun and magic, of course.

From his nest amongst the burning logs of the castle's hearth, Calcifer eyed the fire-poker warily, and grumbled, "Sophie's not going to like this much," but without much vigour. The fire demon had long ago become used to Howl's method of doing things; long laconic periods of apathy, followed by frantic bouts of activity as he strove to fix whatever had gone wrong.

"She won't be home for hours." Howl said distractedly. And then, craning his neck to see the door, "Oh, how interesting?"

Morgan was apparently tall enough now to reach up past the door handle, and to the brass knob that was above it. His once-chubby fingers must have been longer, stronger, now, too, because he managed to twist the knob one click clockwise. In the small window of the brass knob, an orange blob of paint appeared. Both Calcifer and Howl felt the slight whoosh-tug as the castle's magic set the door to open out onto a courtyard. A covered walkway led into what had been, at various times, a hat shop, a flower shop, and an empty building full of far too many chattering princesses for Howl's liking. It was currently not in use, though Sophie had mentioned plans for a creche or school – to make it easier to keep track of Morgan, when he got to that age.

Morgan himself, blissfully unaware, smiled at the sounds of the bustling crowds of Market Chipping, and shut the door happily against the blue sky and sunlit pavement. He stretched again, and Howl and Calcifer heard the click of the knob

There was another rush of energy, and tug, as a blob of red paint slid into view. Without pausing for any anticipation – a lack of showmanship that Howl would have doubtlessly indulged in himself – Morgan swung the door open to look out at Kingsbury, the capital city. The buildings were richer, there. Taller, thinner. There were less crowds on their street, but still a number of people walking and visiting. No shoppers, these, but finely dressed people. The sort that visited the castle, or just the nobles installed nearby. The sort of people that could afford to pay for the Wizard To The King, Howl Pendragon. Market Chipping was for customers that could afford Mr. Jenkins' wife, the Hatter's daughter. A different clientele altogether. Howl much preferred the clothes in Kingsbury himself, _and_ the income, but he had to agree with Calcifer and Sophie; the customers from Market Chipping were far less demanding and dangerous.

Morgan nodded to himself, and shut the door. Reached again for the knob, which turned with a shuddering ca-ca-click. This time, the whoosh was more like a roaring gale. The tug was altogether rougher, almost unstable. Howl almost dropped his book in surprise as the display window changed to show... white. White? Not orange, or red, or the green for the real castle door in the idyllic countryside. Not even the black of Wales, with Howl's sister's family, but _white? _Now, the castle door was set to somewhere that Howl did not recognise. Somewhere foreign.

"How very interesting." Howl put his book aside and slowly began to rise from his seat as Morgan's hand lowered the door handle, the door swung open, and the boy stepped out onto a busy suburban street.

"But he shouldn't be able to do that," Calcifer complained, "he's not even connected to the castle. Not like either of us are. How did he do that, Howl?"

Howl put down his book and shrugged. "Really, I have no idea."

He strode across the room once, a finger on his lips as if he was trying to remember something that was _just_ escaping his memory. The twinkle in Howl's eye couldn't fool Calcifer, though; he could see right through Howl, and the change, when it came, was not surprising in the least. Turning on his heel, Howl spun around and down so fast that you had to be damned fast - as fast as a shooting star - to notice any transition at all. The once tall man shrunk downwards. His clothes changed from long flowing elegant garments to the soft frilly foppery of a young prince. That had always been, in Calcifer's mind, an unnecessary embellishment. Howl only needed to turn himself into someone - or thing - that could shadow Sophie and keep a close eye on Morgan. He'd only needed it at all because his persona as Howl Pendragon was so flashy and well known made any appearance as himself objectionable to Sophie. He could have gone as a nursemaid, or a humble young babysitter. The clothes were all Howl, all indulgence and ego.

Calficer would have protested, when Howl changed himself into his younger avatar, "Twinkle", but there really wasn't any time to be wasted. They both knew that Howl should hurry to retrieve Morgan, and that Calcifer should get to work examining the magic that had brought them here. At least, Calcifer hoped that Howl would retrieve Morgan quickly. The sudden appearance of Twinkle didn't bode well for the future at all. Still, there was little that Calcifer could do as the door to the new, strange place closed. Calcifer didn't recognise the land that the door opened onto at all, and he couldn't risk leaving the castle, because Morgan had changed the magic that kept everything together, so to speak, and _someone _would be needed to keep an eye on things.

To the empty room, with a growing sense of dread, Calcifer announced in a baleful tone, "Sophie's not going to like this at all."

- -

Ranma Saotome took in a deep breath, as deep as he dared, and readied the broom he'd managed to grab in both hands. He could hear the shouts and calls from streets away, but that wasn't unusual for a weekend in Nerima. There was usually someone out for blood - his blood - and it usually involved some amount of stupidity about marriages or promises, or kidnappings. He wasn't really concerned; life was just, he had realised, like that. Traumatic and debasing and unrewarding at every turn.

What truly concerned Ranma was the short, sneaky, hands-on pervert who had ambushed him with a cup of tap water on his way to the shops for milk. _Milk_! He'd been sent out on an errand for one of the three women that he lived with - perhaps the only one that treated him halfway decently - and instead of being at home and eating whatever it was that Kasumi had been stirring, he had spent half an hour, _half an hour_, running and ducking and feeling dirty all over. Those disgusting hands. The perverted arsehole.

It was, Ranma thought as he clenched his hands tighter around the broom handle, men like Happousai that created women like Akane. Angry, disgusted, untrusting women. Women ready to slap Ranma in the face rather than wait for a perfectly reasonable explanation. For that alone, Ranma was more than ready to use his improvised weapon with as much force as he could muster.

He knew that he wouldn't see the lech coming, but he did expect a somewhat normal pattern of behaviour. The old man was, after all, more a demented breast-seeking missile than a true human being. Ranma expected a quick approach from the front, that he could meet with a heavy thwack of bamboo cane. If he was lucky, it would leave a welt across Happousai's face. But instead, Ranma heard purposeful steps from behind. Lighter than he expected, and though quick against the concrete pavement, nowhere near as fast as the old man could move. Ranma spun on his heel, bringing the broom down as he moved just in case it _was_ Happousai, trying to trick him. But as he spun, he realised his mistake.

His broom handle wasn't about to hit a well-deserving bald nutjob, but a short kid with the soft golden-ish hair of a foreigner. Ranma held back as much as he could, but the cane handle still hit with an audible noise. Aghast, Ranma pulled backwards, throwing the broom away from himself down the street. A hit like that could have killed the brat... but no, the little guy was just rubbing his head, and looking up at Ranma with eyes wide in wonderment. Or concussion. Ranma sincerely hoped that there was no permanent damage to the kid. All thoughts of Happousai fled Ranma completely as his guilt over the kid took over his mind completely.

Before he had chance to apologise, or even kneel close enough to check the kid's pupils, a clear young voice called around a corner. "Morgan? Ready or not, I'm coming!"

It preceded a slightly older boy, similar looking, if a bit prettier, more angelic, than the injured 'Morgan'. He skipped down the street towards them, wearing very strange clothes. He looked like a child of loli-goth fashion, with frilly lacy bits everywhere, and buttons. His shoes had buckles all over them. But something was a little off. The colours were too, well, _nice_. They looked like natural dyes and fabric, not the black and pastel synthetics that most loli costumes were made of. The lace looked less sharp, less white, less well organised. There weren't many ribbons at all. The boots were brown, worn leather instead of shiny patent black or white. It was all too... authentic and comfortable looking for loli-goth. Well, that, and the boy was very obviously wearing trousers that weren't cut with the oil-grimy gutters of Tokyo in mind; they'd accumulated grimy dust and mess from the city at some point in time.

That image itself threw Ranma for a few seconds, as the boy strode along the street with an amused look on his face. He didn't seem too concerned that his friend, Morgan, had just been attacked by Ranma. Perhaps he hadn't noticed. Ranma risked a quick glance down at Morgan, worried that the kid had something wrong with him, and the sight wasn't reassuring. The boy was still staring up at him.

As the new, foppishly dressed boy arrived, the kid called Morgan closed his mouth. He blinked slowly, and then looked at Ranma with much clearer, intent eyes. "She isn't too bad."

He said it rote, as if it was something he'd heard before, from someone else. In the way of young kids, he raised his voice very loud, and pronounced the words carefully, and seemed to be a little proud of himself for the achievement. Something about that sentence made the older boy, who had just drawn even with Morgan on the street, laugh openly. There was something a little to gleeful in that laugh for Ranma to accept that it _wasn't _a laugh being had at his expense.

"No, Morgan, 'she' isn't too bad _at all_." Whatever the joke was, Ranma sure wouldn't have minded being in on it. The emphasis that had been placed on the word "she" by this brat was awfully suspicious, he thought. In Ranma's experience, after all, there were hardly ever any suspicious circumstances that turned out to be coincidental. In fact, they hardly ever left Ranma without a large amount of bruises.

"What," Ranma tried after a few seconds of dread, "do you mean by that?"

The older boy shrugged, and turned to look down at Morgan. "Well, it was something that he heard his mother say a few days ago. Never mind that..."

Morgan made an exasperated sound, and turned to face the boy. "Yes we _do _mind, Twinkle! This is important!"

Twinkle, was it? Ranma had to bite his lip not to laugh himself at the very serious looks on the faces of the kids in front of him. They spoke Japanese so fluently that they must be locally born foreigners, and mad to boot!

Morgan shook his head vehemently, and Twinkle raised his hands in a feigned surrender, smiling all the while. Then, Morgan reached out, and grabbed one of Ranma's hands. He had a very strong grip for a kid that young. He took a step and tugged on Ranma's sleeve, insistent on movement. Ranma resisted for a moment, and then nearly cried out loud. At Ranma's refusal to move, the kid had begun to emit the weirdest ki Ranma had ever seen. It span in whorls around the boy, multi-coloured, and creepy. It stretched tendrils out that curled along the street, and brushed up against things. Several of the curlicues of the confusing aura reached lazily towards Ranma.

He recoiled a little, scared, even though they didn't seem to be doing anything in particular to anything else they touched. He kept a close eye on the ones that were headed his way, until Twinkle's voice interrupted his concentration.

"Perhaps you'd better come and have morning tea with us, young man."

That, more than anything else he'd just seen or heard, was what convinced Ranma to follow them. He let Morgan lead him slowly down the street - at a child's pace - while keeping a close eye on this "Twinkle" character. Ranma had been wearing his cursed female body since Happousai had doused him with that cup of water earlier, and there was no way that anyone could have guessed at Ranma's true form. Either he'd been tailed by these kids for close to an hour - and judging by the speed they were moving at now, he didn't think it was likely - or Twinkle was far more than he seemed.

Hell, the morning was a waste, anyway. If he spent the energy getting away from whatever the hell the kid's power was, he'd only end up having to deal with Happousai. Then apologising to Kasumi. Then being harangued by Akane. For the moment, it seemed more restful to just go with the flow. Follow the kid. Hell, if Twinkle could speak fluent Japanese, manage a kid like Morgan, and see past Ranma's curse, maybe there was a thin chance that he might be able to help return Ranma to normality. At the very least, maybe he _knew_ someone who could..

They took a sharp turn at a main road, and began heading steadily north-east at a leisurely pace. Ranma let himself be tugged along by Morgan amicably, and Twinkle kept pace with them both, often pausing to run off and examine something in their surroundings. It was as if he was putting in an act of enraptured child, Ranma thought, because he could see a deviously intelligent spark in Twinkle's face, every time he caught Ranma watching him.

"So, do you live around here?" Ranma asked.

"Yep!" Replied Morgan. He stopped walking, and showed Ranma a very wide grin. Twinkle cackled with mirth, and swivelled on his heels as Morgan led Ranma around another corner, and towards the external stairs of a small, two-story apartment building. Ranma shot a questioning look at Twinkle, but the boy just laughed harder, wrapped his arms around his middle, and waved a hand at the stairwell. Twinkle stopped to catch his breath, but Morgan pressed onwards with inexorable determination.

They ascended. Intended, Ranma thought, for one of the small 2LK apartments; a small home for parents and two kids. But instead, Morgan stopped at the end of the line of doors, and what was quite obviously a maintenance cupboard. As Twinkle ran up the stairs behind them, Morgan rapped loudly on the door, and cried out "Calcifer, let us in!"

Twinkle cleared his throat behind Ranma, and Morgan appended sheepishly, "Please?"

Something made a very strange sound behind the door. A crisp click, like a key sliding into place within a lock. Morgan grinned at the sound, and Twinkle got a very odd look on his face. Morgan pulled down on the door handle, and swung the door open. Inside was not a clutter of tools, or even an empty cupboard, but a sunlit room with wooden floorboards, a large wooden table, rickety looking shelves and drawers full of strange things, scraps of paper, two forlorn looking upended pot plants... and a stone hearth that cast a strange and greenish glow throughout the room.

Morgan approached the hearth apologetically, and Twinkle ushered Ranma into the room properly before shutting the door behind them. Ranma turned to see that the cheap metal door was, on this side, wooden, with one normal handle, and one very strange knob above. He watched Twinkle twist the higher knob, and a spot of white to the top of the knob whirled around, until there was an orange that was nearly the same colour as the brass around it. The door made that same clicking sound again.

"There." Twinkle sighed heavily, as if suddenly relieved of a very heavy burden. The boy brushed past Ranma and sat heavily down in an armchair far too large for his short frame.

"I'm sorry, Calcifer." Morgan whined out an apology, at the hearth. "It was _neccessary_."

Twinkle snorted in his chair, barely visible to Ranma past the arm rests. Ranma joined them, a little bemused that he'd been kidnapped with such insistence, and then apparently completely forgotten. He stood beside Twinkle's armchair, and then boggled slightly at the scene before him. In the hearth, instead of a normal yellowish-orange fire, was a greenish blue weird mess. It reminded him of the time that Akane had tried to cook using the old shichirin they'd found under the house. She'd spilt sauce onto the coals she'd been using to heat the pot, and the whole thing had let off this noxious looking flame.

This one smelt a little less than that time, though it still looked like a chemically induced nightmare of a fire. As Ranma stared, he realised that it was moving, and not in the way that a fire should move. Darker areas were creasing together like eyebrows, and that part down the bottom... that was almost like a pair of crossed arms. In fact, now that he looked, there were two glinting hints of orange that could easily pass for eyes...

When part of the flame parted, and moved as a mouth, issuing forth a dry and crackling voice, Ranma barely caught himself from crying out in astonishment. He'd seen all manner of strange things in his time - the Jusenkyo cursed animals and people some of the less crazy ones - but this was beyond even Ranma's tolerance for the weird and occult.

"What, haven't you ever seen a fire-demon before?" The fire-demon crackled and spat at Ranma, ignoring the penitent looking child before it. Ranma began to worry if maybe he'd been brought here as food for it? A demon that kept children as its' prisoners, as lures for bait... that fed on human flesh... well, it wouldn't be the first time that he'd been in a fight for his life against magical beings.

Before Ranma could react, or ready himself for anything, another muffled snicker from Twinkle drew the rage of the fire demon down upon the seated boy, instead. It turned to him, and its' eyes scowled menacingly. "And you, Howl! How could you go off for hours like that? What if something had happened to the castle? To _us?_"

Morgan cast a worried glance to Twinkle, who slipped forwards in his chair, and rested his head on his palms. Elbows braced on his knees, legs swinging, just within Ranma's view now, the boy grinned at the fire demon as if he had a very big secret. "You know that I'd never leave if we were in that sort of trouble. I know exactly how Morgan did what he did. I'm sure you've figured it out, too, Calcifer. So I let the kid play for a while? No harm was done."

The fire demon, Calcifer, bristled and crackled. "And what if Sophie had come home before you did? You _know_ what she does when she gets upset!"

Sophie was an unknown person to Ranma. He cocked his head curiously. "I don't. What does she do?"

"Oh, what _doesn't_ she do?" Twinkle asked dramatically.

Calcifer spat at him. "Why did you marry her, then?" He asked Twinkle. Or, was it, Howl?

Ranma was beginning to feel increasingly more like a fifth wheel... an extra, an audience for a scene that was very well rehearsed, and very tightly written. Even Morgan seemed to feel a little sidelined; he'd moved away from the hearth, and had reached upwards a little to take hold of Ranma's hand. But at the word "marry", Morgan's grip tightened. His small, curly head of hair nodded decisively, as if he had remembered something important. Ranma himself had begun to remember that he hadn't come here to be awed by a demon. That he'd been led here, for some reason that was apparently not related to Calcifer.

"What was necessary?" Ranma asked. He felt a little nervous, as Morgan, Twinkle, and Calcifer all turned to regard him..

"Oh, that." Twinkle shrugged, as if it was all inconsequential. "It's something that Morgan's had in his head since that wedding we went to last week."

Ranma blinked in incomprehension. Then he looked down at Morgan's small pudgy hand, sticky with some sort of sweet food. Grimy with god knew what. He had the feeling that he wasn't going to like Morgan's answer at all.

"You're my wife, dummy."

Ranma had been correct. He didn't like that answer. Setting aside the obvious problem of Ranma's true gender, there was the whole age thing to consider. And the... well, the age gap was something he couldn't quite get past. He blustered a little, worried that if he brushed the kid off too soon, that creepy energy would come back and kick his arse. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before, and it scared the hell out of him. He couldn't risk just walking out. Given the sly look Twinkle had had on his face when he'd called Ranma a 'young boy', he wasn't sure that he wanted to, just yet; not if there was some hope that his curse could be cured. It would be beautiful turnabout, if the very mess his female appearance had got him into was the mess that finally cured him. Given the click that he'd heard when Twinkle had turned the strange knob above the door handle, Ranma wasn't sure that he _could_ have just walked out, even if he wanted to. The energy of the place was all wrong. He couldn't hear the street traffic of Tokyo at all, anymore.

The air was clear and drier here, as if they were worlds away from the sticky summer humidity of Nerima. That thought in and of itself sent a little shiver down Ranma's spine. To try and resolve this one step at a time. First, he'd deal with this wife business. Then he'd deal with Twinkle. Then he'd go home, suffer three women worth of wrath, and remind himself that it was _never_ a good idea to follow strange foreign children into magical cupboards. He should have learnt his lesson from that weird western film Kasumi had been watching last week, with the coats and snow and weird animals.

So, the wife business first. If he appealed to Morgan's logic - and a kid who used words like "necessary" would have to be smart enough to recognise sense when it was shoved in his face - things should be piss easy.

"You want me to be your wife, Morgan?"

The boy nodded emphatically, and rewarded Ranma with a wide grin. Ranma knelt down in front of the kid, and put on what he hoped was a kind face.

"But didn't I hit you on the head with a broom?"

The boy looked serious as he nodded this time. "Yep. That hurt."

"No kidding. Well, you don't want a wife who hits you. That's abusive. It's wrong, agreed?"

Morgan squished his face up, and shook his head furiously. "No way. Mum hits dad _all_ the time. She cleans, too. That's what being married _is_."

Jeez, the kid had some warped values. Ranma shot a desperate glance at Twinkle, who shrugged in response. "You remind him of his mum, I guess it was meant to be."

"Pah." Calcifer protested from the hearth. "Sophie _really_ wouldn't like that, Howl."

"Howl?" Ranma asked, hoping that someone would explain something, anything, about his current circumstances.

"Oh, you're all no fun." Twinkle pouted. He stood, and with an elaborate flourish of arms, turned in the blink of an eye into an adult man in a much fussier suit, with hair that probably saw more shampoo than a whole amazon tribe. He patted Morgan on the head, glared at Calcifer, and turned to nod his head at Ranma. "Howl Pendragon, King's wizard."

"You're... a _wizard?_" Ranma couldn't keep the hope out of his voice. Not a Chinese apothecary, or an old hag of a herb witch, or a mad perverted martial artist. A wizard. Someone who probably used mystical items and powers in a way that Ranma could not. If Morgan the child was another wizard, then that strange and powerfully scary mess Ranma had witnessed in the street... that could be magic strong enough to finally free him of his curse!

As if that sound of hope, and the look on Ranma's face, had given this wizard Howl a direct line into Ranma's brain, the man said "Sorry, I can't. Your curse? It's not the sort of thing that I can fix at all."

Ranma felt his heart sinking in his chest. Morgan's small hand patted his, and the kid offered him a sympathetic smile. Sympathy from a kid, of all things. "Don't be upset. Mum can help, she always does."

Howl frowned, and tapped a finger against his chin in thought. "Morgan, don't say that. You haven't learnt enough to be able to even _see_ what's wrong with this kid..."

"Ranma," Ranma supplied.

"... what's wrong with Ranma. Though Sophie is the person to ask about this sort of thing."

Morgan pouted fiercely and his face turned red, but he didn't contradict Howl. Instead, he tugged at Ranma's hand and led the way over to a box in the corner. With a proud arm, Morgan lifted the lid and regarded the toys inside proudly. Ranma dutifully looked for himself, and found himself looking down at the most odd and disturbing toys he'd ever seen a kid suffer. A mixture of foreign looking action figures and small tin cars were mixed in with shining metallic baubles and handcrafted animals that would be exquisite works of art, if they weren't covered in scratches and teethmarks. Some of the toys were moving in strange ways, and Ranma had to turn away. It was a little too creepy to watch. He waited patiently while Morgan deliberated over some great dilemma, then sat down cross-legged with the boy to poke at some plastic dinosaurs

"So the thing is," Ranma tried for that sweet reason again, "that you're too young to get married. So it just won't work."

Morgan shrugged. "Then we can do the other thing. Be... um..."

"Engaged?" Ranma was alarmed now. A kid wanting marriage was a nuisance, but a real honest-to-god engagement was something Ramna had learnt to fear above all else in life.

Morgan beamed at him. "Yeah! Engaged! Oh, this is my favourite!"

Ranma regarded the Diplodocus toy being thrust towards him, and felt a cold sweat coming on. At the very least, he supposed, he could go home and hope that Morgan forgot about all this over the next ten - or twenty - years.

"I guess I'll be off then."

A dangerous look, of tantrums looming, rose in Morgan's eyes. It reminded Ramna strongly of the eyes of, well, all his _other_ more legitimate fiancées. That was something he'd have to think about with more worry and fear later, he supposed.

"You have to _stay!_" Morgan protested. "We have a spare room!"

Calficer crackled with laughter in the hearth. "You mean Howl's _private room of noble retreat_? That's full of garbage and the books Howl doesn't want Sophie to know he's been reading."

Howl scowled at the fire, and then swept out of the room with a flourish. "I'm off to my study to do some _research_. You children can play amongst yourselves."

His boots echoed in the house as they stomped up wooden stairs. Morgan ignored the whole procession, and Calcifer rolled his gaseous eyes in the fireplace, so Ranma shrugged and watched Morgan scuffle the plastic dinosaurs across the wooden floor around each other. Ranma watched the plastic feet pad about in the scatterings of potting mix that lay all over the floor. The small clumps of soil made the toys seem huger, more impressive and lifelike. Ranma wondered if Morgan saw it too, or if it was all in Ranma's head. Ranma was just on the verge of beginning to maybe wonder if they shouldn't try to clean up the dirt before this "Sophie" person arrived home when Calcifer flared up and the door clicked once, heavily, before opening.

The woman who stood in the doorway was quite well dressed, and wearing clothes in an entirely different style again to that of Morgan or Howl. Sophie wore a dress that Ranma could only describe as something like Akane's flowing theatre costumes, but better. It was made to fit her exactly, and the hem was a practical distance from the ground, showing sensible boots. It was beautiful, but buttoned right up to her neck. A Caucasian face, and a golden red hair. It was a brilliant colour, illuminated by the sun that shone in through the doorway, and made Ranma feel a bit ashamed of his own hair colour for the first time ever. He'd gloated to his family about his female cursed form's appearance, mocked Akane when she'd bleached and dyed her own hair one summer, and it all seemed very petty and stupid now. His hair had never been that red, or that pretty before.

The woman's beautiful face fell at the sight of the room. She sighed quietly in a way that spoke a thousand words; it was a sigh that said "I've dealt with situations like this many times in my life, a lot of them today, and I really don't want to do it again." Ranma began lamely sweeping the potting mix nearest to himself together with his palms, but all he seemed to be able to do was smear the dark moist mess into the wooden floor. The action drew her attention, and Ranma winced, expecting a thwap or a punch or a screech.

"Oh, you're new." Was all he got from her. A little dubious, Ranma carefully opened one eye. But her attention was drawn away from Ranma already; Morgan was running across the floor and bunching small fists into her skirts.

She hoisted Morgan into her arms, and then regarded Calcifer in the fireplace very sternly. "I can tell just from looking that this room isn't the worst mess Morgan has made today."

Calcifer paled and spluttered on the spot. "S-sophie...." He seemed to Ranma to peer up from beneath his own flames, worried. "Howl's in his room!"

Ah, passing the buck. Redirecting the fury. Ranma had seen Soun Tendou use a similar technique with his daughters. A survival technique in the face of a woman's anger. Sophie turned her head, and eyed a patch of the roof very deliberately. Then, as if she'd changed her mind, she set Morgan down on the floor again and turned her attention to him.

"Morgan, do you remember the game we played last week?"

Morgan stared back at her, eyes wide, mouth open. "Cleaning up isn't a game, mum."

Sophie tutted, smiled wearily, and nodded. "Alright, yes. It isn't. It's very serious and important business. Do you think you can rise to the challenge? I'm sure it would impress your new friend here."

A quick look from Sophie had Ranma nodding emphatically in agreement. Morgan seemed to think very seriously for a moment before smiling and making his way across the room to grab a brightly coloured, smaller-than-usual dustpan and brush. It seemed a bit cruel, to have cleaning implements made deliberately to make children work, but Morgan seemed more than happy to be brushing the dirt up. Ranma felt a little awkward just standing there, so he moved to put the pots to rights. He used his hands to push the bulk of the mess into them, and used a heavy push to help settle the soil back down around the roots of the plants. The brush of a twiggy branch against his cursed breasts reminded him of his real problems, and with a sinking stomach he turned to meet Morgan's bright grin.

Ranma took the dustpan from the kid and carefully tipped the soil into one of the pots. He handed it back, and craned his neck to watch Sophie disappearing light-footed up the stairs in the same direction Howl had gone. A heated sounding discussion later, and she was marching back into the room with her lips in a thin line and her fist clenched at her sides. She picked Morgan up, and ignoring the half-finished job bundled him upstairs. A rattling of pipes and a distant female huff of exasperation could be heard through the walls. Calcifer flickered in the fireplace, distracted and not looking at Ranma at all.

"You alright there, er... Calcifer?"

Ranma settled into the chair Howl had occupied - very comfy indeed in the end - as he waited for a response. It was few very long seconds later that Ranma received a response, and even then Calcifer sounded distracted and strained.

"Fine, fine. Just... well, I mean... it was simple enough to keep the castle together and fix everything, but I'm tired. I bet as soon as Morgan is clean, she's going to want to _mop_."

Ranma noticed a small hint of the melodrama that Howl flaunted creeping into the fire demon's voice. He leaned forward, closer to Calcifer's warmth, and tried to puzzle his way through what had just been said. "So, you... heat the water, too?"

Calficer bobbed in the hearth, and Ranma assumed that counted as a nod as much as anything could. "That's right. Calcifer, the almighty water heater, kitchen stove, spell battery, babysitter and friend. Not that I mind, but..."

Calcifer yawned, and Ranma hmmed in sympathy. He'd had days like that himself, running around exhausted, his efforts taken completely for granted. Ranma scratched the back of his head. "Is there anything I could do?"

"Yeah. See that log?"

Ranma saw that log, sitting in a pile of wood beside the fireplace. So no matter how smart a fire got, he still had to feed on wood? It was odd to think that something so strange behaved so normally. Still, Ranma lifted the log easily and handed it over gingerly to two arms formed of flame. Calcifer jostled around on the log a little, then sighed happily out with a hiss and creak of the wood.

"Much better than before, really. I couldn't move around, before, you know? Used to have all these soft vulnerable spots, so I had to stay put and act like a bloody damsel in distress."

Ranma would have weighed in with his own frustration at being a strong martial artist kidnapped to be the bride to a toddler, at feeling impotent and a little listless, but there was a barely audible argument upstairs, the slam of a door, and one set of grumpily heavy feet coming down the stairs. Ranma didn't dare move, and so the first he saw of whoever had returned was a slender woman's arm settling a heavy-looking kettle down over Calcifer. Ranma was shocked, a little scandalised, at the breach of Calcifer's personal space, until he remembered that Calcifer was on top of everything else more or less behaving like a normal fire. Calcifer himself didn't seem to grumble at all, he just bowed his head over, accepted the kettle, and muttered that it was, at least, "better than the mop."

Ranma half-rose, but sat down warily as he witnessed Sophie's hurried bustling around the kitchen bench and cluttered table. Her scraping around, opening and shutting cupboard doors, was incredibly intimate and homey compared to the controlled order of the kitchen that Kasumi ran where he lived. The soft warmth of Calcifer and the bubbling rocking of the kettle put him further at ease. By the time that Sophie had pulled up a low stool to cluster around near Calcifer and Ranma, carrying a plate of simple butter biscuits, there seemed nothing strange or uncomfortable at all about sitting down to western style black tea with milk. Even when the water was heated by a fire demon, and the house itself was maybe part of a maintenance closet. The heat of the tea and the sugar in the biscuits steamed up into Ranma's brain until he was even drowsier, more mellow and at ease. He watched Sophie feed two sodden used teabags to Calcifer, who made a sour face. She scowled at Calcifer until he quietened down, and it was only then that Sophie began to speak in a friendly but immovably strong voice.

"So what brings you here, young man?"

Ranma started a little despite the sleepy heaviness that had taken over his limbs. "Huh? How could you tell?"

Sophie laughed softly and dropped some biscuit crumbs over Calcifer. The fire demon widened his mouth and lazily ate the treat, before settling back amongst his logs and ashes.

"Well I've had some experience with problems like yours. And anyway, it's not as if you even _think_ you're a girl. You don't move like someone who has grown used to living in a female body, but more like someone who has simply forgotten that they have one. You still, for instance, sit like a man."

That Sophie was calling Ranma a man rather than a boy - or a girl, or a sexy strumpet, or a pervert - was a very nice change. He sipped his hot tea, and felt his cheeks flush from the warmth of it. At least, he would remember later that it was the heat of the tea that had done it. It was true, after all; he was able to forget the feeling of wrongness in his cursed female body... he was perfectly capable of moving on with his life and coping with it. But he'd never felt comfortable with _being_ female. Never felt any feelings or inclination that didn't feel natural and part of himself and, well, _male_.

"Yeah, I guess so." Ranma smiled at Sophie over his cup. "I'm just not really used to that, to people noticing. It's more likely that I'll get misunderstood, sometimes deliberately. And I've had a lot of people treat my cursed form as a tool for their own enjoyment. It's kinda gross, really. I don't feel like they're seeing me at all."

Sophie nodded in sympathy and handed Ranma another biscuit from the plate. "When I was about your age, I had the same problem, for very different reasons. But I found that knowing yourself, being yourself, is all you can do. In fact, though it's not your fault, feeling powerless against that sort of behaviour is as good as giving up."

"It is?" Ranma managed to keep his tone civil, though a part of him inside railed up against her words. Goddamnit, he couldn't change what others did, or how he felt about it!

"Think about it. A lot of them are probably using you in ways that they aren't even aware. But instead of everyone running around confused and making a mess of things? You can just get stubborn on them. Don't let them use you. You look strong physically, but I doubt you've thought much about how vulnerable you can be mentally. If you become as sure of yourself internally as you are externally, then nothing they can do can touch you."

Sophie bit her lip, and sipped her tea, looking as if she wished she'd found better words for it. Ranma wished she had, too.

"I'm not sure, I mean... I think that was a bit beyond me, but I'll try, I guess."

Sophie smiled at him. "Good." She gathered up their empty cups and then paused. She looked at Ranma thoughtfully, and then patted him on his shoulder. "You're a very bright young man, and I'm sure you'll overcome all your setbacks."

Her hand felt very small on Ranma's shoulder. He turned after her, and felt his shirt bunch strangely on his chest. Looking down in astonishment, he realised that at some point during their conversation, with no hot water other than tea - and drinking hot water never solved the problem, or Ranma would have far less burns on his arms - he had regained his true, male form. The curse had disappeared somehow.

"Bring me the kettle, would you?" Sophie called out from in the kitchen. In a bit of a daze, Ranma stretched his legs a little and stood warily. He half expected the miraculous change to be a trick of his own mind, but nothing at all happened as he carried the kettle across to the sink. Not daring to hope, Ranma reached out for the tap and turned it sharply once. Cold water came out, splattering over the kettle and his hands.

"Oh, for... pah! It's only had hot water in it, you don't need to wash it! That's why I used teabags for our cups."

Ranma sheepishly emptied the kettle and set it on the bench as indicated by a glowering Sophie. But inside, an elation filled him. It was real! So real that he felt unreal, light and distant and wonderful. His hands were large and male, his view out the high window in the wall above the sink hadn't changed by so much as a millimetre, and his clothes still fit comfortably and snug around his waist.

"I'm me..." he said aloud, in wonder.

"Well of course you are, who else could you be?" Sophie's tone was stern but there was a knowing smile on her face. "And don't go asking me any stupid questions; all I did was talk to you for a while, after all."

"Well, it ah, just feels good, to be me."

"It always does," Sophie agreed, "Oh but here comes trouble!"

Howl was flouncing down the stairs and into the room, holding a bleary eyed and struggling Morgan in his arms. The boy seemed almost liquid at times, slipping and sliding and doing his best to escape his father's grasp. The kid was even emitting a grizzling sound. As Howl reached the foot of the stairs, Morgan tumbled to the ground triumphant and made his wobbly way across the now clean floor towards Sophie and Ranma.

"_Your_ child has finished his nap, Sophie, and I have much more important things to do."

Sophie's mouth twitched into a half-smile. "Doing your hair again, then?"

"Oh, if only I had the time. There are far too many demands on my time to possibly allow for personal hygiene! No, dear, dear Sophie... I must do some work for the King of Ingary!"

With a raised nose and dramatic flourish - and was that a wink Ranma caught being thrown at Sophie, Howl strode back up and out of the room. Sophie snorted to herself and went back to bustling around and doing, well, er, something in the kitchen. Ranma wasn't sure what exactly, but the ferocity with which Sophie attended to the task put him off _wanting_ to ask about it.

"Is everything a joke to Howl, then?" Ranma asked cautiously. While Sophie banged about with a saucepan in a cupboard, Ranma noticed an insistent tug on his trousers, and bent over to pick Morgan up. The kid didn't seem all that bad, now that Ranma was fixed and himself again, and Morgan had had a bit of a rest.

"What? Oh, well, yes. The day that that man takes something seriously? ... Oh, it's not worth _thinking_ about. Things went so poorly last time that we all just put up with him now, and give him a boot in the arse when he deserves it."

Ranma cleared his throat a little awkwardly. Though Howl did seem to entirely deserve a bit of a thwap, as a man who suffered regular... percussive therapy... from the women in his life, he felt that he shouldn't approve of it. Solidarity and all that. Sophie didn't seem to notice Ranma's dilemma, though. She kept herself busy, and Ranma found himself looking down at Morgan. The boy didn't seem confused at all, that he'd left when there was a redheaded young woman, and returned to find a more typically black-haired Japanese man.

"Uh, hey, Morgan." Ranma said. Morgan grinned widely up at him, and nodded.

"I had a nap, it was pretty good." Morgan said.

"Oh. Well, ah, congratulations, I suppose."

Morgan opened his mouth to reply, but they were both surprised by the thud of something landing on the large table. Ranma realised that all the clunking about had been Sophie simply finding places to put all of the things that had cluttered the room. On the table was a plate with some suspiciously healthy looking fruit and sandwiches.

"Come on, Morgan, lunchtime now." Sophie said. She stood near the table with her hands braced on her hips, with a patient look to her face. Ranma didn't want to find out what would happen if Morgan refused. He could recognise that Sophie was the enforcer of rules, tidyness and nutrition in this household.

"Don't wanna. I have my own wife, and _she_ will make me food."

Ranma regarded Morgan incredulously. "Kid? I'm a man. M-A-N, man!"

Morgan's face went blank with confusion. "So?"

Ranma opened his mouth to try to explain, then shut it again. It wasn't like gay marriage was unheard of in the world, after all. He tried to think of the right way to phrase it. Sophie tsked at them, and used Morgan's bafflement to usher him over to the table and set a brightly coloured plate down before him. Ranma followed, took a seat, and tried again.

"Some people, Morgan, they only like to, er, _marry_ people of the opposite sex. Boys with girls, and girls with boys."

Morgan chewed on a sandwich, nodding. "Okay then."

Ranma felt a very weird feeling in his stomach. Assuming it was hunger, he helped himself to a sandwich. It was only when his eyes fell on Sophie that he began to suspect something. Her mouth was hidden behind her hand, her face was red and her eyes were watering. Ranma felt his eyebrow twitch reflexively. He was so used to random physical changes that he hadn't even noticed it consciously when it had happened. Morgan had turned him into a girl again. But something was different. Something felt... off... inside. Concerned, Ranma went to grab the kettle again.

"Ah, Sophie, may I?"

She bit her lip, calmed down, and exhaled sharply. "You'd better ask Calcifer, he's the one who has to bend over for it."

Ranma turned to Calcifer, who was shaking in a very suspicious way. You couldn't hit a fire for making fun of you, right? Wait, could you hit one at all? Probably more pain or effort than it was worth. Ranma was sure he could figure out a way, maybe use a water punch technique, but he was way more worried about his current status to care much.

"Shove over then. Please, I mean."

"Heh, sure. You're good entertainment, kid!"

Ranma grumbled, and sat down to watch the kettle boil. It was a little funny. Or at least it would be, if it wasn't currently happening to Ranma. And if he had to shove the kettle onto Calcifer's rounded flaming shoulders a little harder, it was probably only because the flames were still shivering with laughter. When the water seemed hot enough, Ranma left it a little longer - just in case - and then tilted it slowly and carefully over an open palm. The water dripped, spattered and then trickled into Ranma's small girly hand. It spilled over onto the floor, and there was no change. The same small slender hands, the same breasts protruding from his chest.

"Oh, for..."

Sophie's voice was high and panicked. She rushed across the room on feet that were faster than Ranma had thought her capable of. As he stared at his hand in shock, wondering if he should have left the kettle on Calcifer's fire for longer, Sophie knocked the kettle out of his other hand, and grabbing Ranma by the wrist dragged him bodily to the sink.

"What if you'd burnt yourself! Boys... pah! No wonder he likes you, you're just like his father. Always doing something stupid and thoughtless, that man is. Then injuring himself or others around him instead of dealing with a problem the way it should be handled."

She ran the cold water tap across his skin. It was a bit sharp, contrasting with the hot warmth of his hand. He laughed nervously, feeling guilty and sorry.

"Ah, sorry. Sophie, sorry. It's how my curse was reversed temporarily, you see. I've built up a tolerance for heat and burns, so it's fine, really."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you _should_. Especially not in a place where you've already seen how easier it is to deal with. And of _course_ you wouldn't be able to fix it that way. Morgan would have had no idea of the circumstances of the original spell that was on you."

When she put it that way, it did seem stupidly obvious. Ranma hung his head and felt a blush steal across his cheeks. "But, I was scared. You know, scared I'd get stuck like this."

"Why?"

Morgan had joined them by the sink at some point. Sophie looked down at him, watching carefully. Her hand was still tight around Ranma's wrist, so he kept quiet. As he watched Morgan himself out of curiousity, he saw it. Morgan's legs were wobbling a little. His eyes were looking droopier, and his hands rose occasionally to rub at them. Then, he yawned.

"Alright, naptime then. And then I'll have a word to that father of yours, about the real definition of 'naptime'." Sophie let Ranma go, and in a smooth scooping motion hefted Morgan into her arms. Ranma waved with his dry hand to Morgan, whose sleepy eyes were fixed on Ranma's face over Sophie's shoulder. That seemed to do the trick, and Morgan rolled his head towards Sophie's neck, yawning wider and longer than before.

Ranma turned off the water, found a teatowel, and dried off. He cast a disgusted look down at his effeminate chest, and sat at the table. There were odd marks all over it. Maybe magic spells? Whatever they were, they didn't bite him or do anything awful. They just looked like strange scratches and burns, from a very full and long life for a table. The wood was worn smooth with age, it felt comfortable beneath his fingertips. He'd always liked old houses, old furniture, old skills. Things that survived for longer than a moment, and that were reliable and strong and solid.

"There we go now, he should stay down for good. Oh, but I'm going to have to have _words_ with that man!"

Ranma smiled slightly. "Sounds scary."

Sophie laughed softly and sat down beside Ranma. "Oh, believe me, I'm only scary when I have to be with Howell. To be honest? I think he likes it when I'm fuming. I'm sure he does it half the time, just to see the faces I pull."

Without warning, Ranma found himself thinking of Akane in a furious rage. "Yeah? Not really anything I'd understand."

"Oh, I see. Well then, that's alright too." Sophie shared another laugh with Ranma, and he realised with a bit of shock that this was the most relaxed and happy he'd been in a long time.

"So anyway, before all of that mess with hot kettles and toddlers, we were talking." Sophie patted Ranma's small girlish hands with her own. They were longer, thicker, Caucasian and pale and elegant and huge in comparison. "And I was saying, that as long as you know who you are - and can be stubborn enough to stand up to everyone - that you never really need to be subject to any curses. Whether you've got any magic in you at all or not, it's a matter of willpower. Magic slithers in, tricks you into thinking that you aren't yourself."

Sophie looked down at her fingers, and then stretched them out before herself. "I was an old woman, my curse. I was the only one that could lift it. In fact, I probably used it as a way to hide from the things I had to face about myself. It took a long time before I was ready to throw it off. But I did. And when you're ready, you will too. Whether it's the spell you wore in here, all wrapped up tight around yourself, or the one that Morgan's just put on you. When you're ready, it'll just not be there anymore."

Ranma stared at his own small girl hands. It sounded way too easy, when Sophie said it like that. As if she hadn't been the one who had taken the curse off in the first place. As if it had been Ranma all along. Though, what she said about hiding behind it rang a little painfully in Ranma's heart. He'd been so nervous, so scared that he'd fall short of proving himself as a man. Had he really been relying on the curse all along? It had been a convenient excuse sometimes. For avoiding marriage, for trying to hang on to the excitement and danger he'd had when living on the road. Being so stationary, so settled, it felt wrong.

Ranma frowned. He wasn't sure he liked where his own mind was going. He never usually thought about things like this, and introspection was for girls. "I guess. Wish I could be as sure as you, though. I mean, I've tried throwing it off with my _ki_ before, nothing's worked."

Sophie raised an eyebrow and tapped a short fingernail on the table. "Oh? I see. Well, what about this then... how do you think of yourself? Even now, with a different spell worked on you, do you feel like a man, or a woman? I'm willing to bet that you've only ever felt inside like the person you are. That you've never even considered thinking about yourself in any other way."

Well, of course he hadn't! He'd never _felt_ like a girl. Had he...? No. Not at all. He was more sure of that than anything else in his life. Sophie seemed to understand completely.

"So," she said, "You'll never have any trouble then. All you have to to is remember that, and things will take care of themselves. No matter how strong a trick is, it can't beat the certainty of your own convictions. Of what you _know_ is and always has been true."

She patted Ranma's hand again, and her fingers felt smaller, softer. He laughed, felt a grin spreading across his face as he looked down at his own hands. His own - decidedly male - chest.

"You know, I think today has been weirder than my entire life. Thanks for that."

Sophie snorted and shook her head. "I didn't do anything. Just had a talk to you, that's all. If anything happened, that was all you. I think you're more powerful than you let yourself know."

Those words made Ranma feel a little embarrassed. He'd never been one to shy away from praise for his achievements. He'd bragged about his strength for years. But praise from Sophie, the implication that he could use his _ki_ in other ways, it was a bit humbling. He might have been able to break free years ago! He just had never known how.

Maybe having Sophie as a catalyst did it? Howl was powerful, but even he seemed to think that Sophie was the one to go to. Whatever, however it had worked, it had Ranma feeling abashed and reluctant to accept his own success. Instead he looked idly around the room at the strange organisation of mess. At the odd labels on the shelves, and the sight of Calcifer just sitting in his hearth.

Sophie sighed heavily, but it didn't sound exhausted or frustrated. Someone married to Howl, mother to Morgan, probably sighed more often than not. She brushed her hands on her skirt, and stood. She fussed around with the things she'd brought in with her, and then presented a brown paper bag to Ranma.

"Here. Martha would kill me if she knew I was giving you this - my sister bakes, and she likes gifts for friends to look much nicer than those for family - but I want to send you home with something nice. To apologise for the behaviour of that brat. And my son, too, of course. But I'm sure Howl had more than a fair hand in what's happened."

Ranma waved a hand slightly in protest. "I... no, I couldn't really. I mean, you've been a huge help to me, I really owe you."

"Bah. Commonsense can't be so rare in your land that a few basic observations made _that_ much of a difference."

Ranma opened his mouth to protest that yes, actually, commonsense did seem to be completely absent from the minds and souls of Nerima's inhabitants. But the bag was being pressed into his hands by a woman with very furious eyes. A woman who had managed to scare the wizard Howl, and produce a child like Morgan. Swallowing his protests, Ranma nodded warily and accepted the bag.

"I guess I'm off then? How will I keep in touch, if I ever need to again? Or if Morgan wants to see me?"

"Oh, well, the door opens to the right place now. I doubt we'll move that again before we've had a chance to get in touch. I can imagine that Howl at least will want to sight-see a little. Don't worry about that."

"Ah, alright then. I guess. And thanks again, for everything. Sophie...." Ranma turned to smile at the fireplace, not quite sure how to farewell a burning magical creature properly. "Calcifer."

Sophie led the way to the door. She turned it, and Ranma heard the click, saw the small window of colour spin. The street sounds of Tokyo seemed louder than he remembered them being, from the other side of the wood. He hadn't noticed they hadn't been there, until they'd come back. One last smile and wave, and then he was stepping back out onto a concrete walkway. The door closed behind him, there was another click, and Ranma knew without even checking that behind the door there was now only a cupboard full of buckets and spare maintenance tools.

One of the apartment doors opened in front of him, and a confused housewife stepped outside. "Can I help you, young man?"

"Ah, no. I'm fine, thanks. Just a bit disoriented, I've got the wrong address. But I know where I'm going now. Excuse me."

With an awkward half-bow, he backed down the stairs and set off for home at a steady pace. After the clean brightness of Sophie's - because she really was the boss of that place - house, Nerima seemed rounder around the edges, darker and grimier than he remembered. He rounded the last corner, slowing as he followed the outside wall of the Tendou Dojo. The sky, that was it. The light that came in from the windows in Sophie's house had been cleaner and brighter. It was a light that you _felt_ as well as saw, thin and clean. Air from a mountain, far from any cities. Like on his trip through China, with silence and peace. If Sophie had been right, if he'd had just as much to do with his cure, then maybe the environment he'd been in had helped centre him, ground him.

Sure, Nerima was home. And he wasn't fussy. But it really was a lot easier to focus when you weren't surrounded by all that noise, all those people, and the city-crowded edges of the sky. It was certainly something to keep in mind. It would be nice, to take the time to have a weekend away from all that and relax. He steadied the squishy whatever-it-was in the paper bag, and let himself in through the gate. It seemed a little anti-climactic. When Akane was rescued from a kidnapping, there was a big fuss over everything. Coming home, having baths, settling back in. Ranma doubted that anyone would have noticed his absence. He'd only been gone for a few hours.

Or, maybe they had? He could hear angry footsteps pounding along the wooden floor, approaching the front door. He raised his hand to open it, but it was shoved wide in front of him. Akane stood there, breathing heavily through her nose and looking dangerous. The feel of her fighting presence was so different to that of Howl, Sophie and Morgan that Ranma couldn't stop himself exhaling in relief. He was _home_.

Akane blinked, and stared at him for a moment, as if she was confused by his reaction. Then she recovered and frowned at him. "Where the hell have you been?"

Ranma shrugged. "I," he answered as they entered the house and headed through to the living room, "was kidnapped to become someone's bride."

Akane scoffed. She eyed the paper bag he was holding dubiously. It was starting to go soggy in places, so Ranma hurried it through to the kitchen. He began to tear open the bag. Akane surprised him, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh. I'll put the kettle on, then."

Ranma really had been glad of his mother, ever since she'd taught Akane how to boil water. Did wonders for morale, and meant that he only ever had to do _half_ of the waiting involved in making tea.

"So anyway, what the hell?"

"Oh, yeah." He took several false starts on the strange shaped... cake? He was pretty sure it had once been a cake. After a few wincing guesses, he decided that _that_ was the right angle to go for. He cut it into equal parts, so that nobody in the house could whine about it later. "So this kid showed up down the road, and kidnapped me. It was pretty weird, I think I..."

"Some kid, hey? The great and powerful Ranma Saotome, manly man amongst men, kidnapped by a _kid_?!"

Ranma couldn't hold back a laugh at that. "Oh, I'd love to have seen the face Morgan would make if he heard that. Yes, a kid. Wish I'd been as strong and stubborn at his age. I coulda fought him, but it was funny, so I played along."

Akane crossed her arms. "Uhuh, sure."

"Sure. Anyway, now that I've been kidnapped, it turns out that it's not that hard to escape after all. Next time you get stolen for marriage, maybe you should try putting up a bit of a fight. Or even, you know, you could ask to be let go."

Ranma ducked the slap that Akane aimed at the back of his head, picked up some plates and carried everything through to the living room. About half the family was there: Kasumi with some sewing, Soun and Genma playing Shogi. Who knew where the others were. Shrugging, he set out the plates. He'd cut it to the right size, if nothing else. And it was just a cake after all. Or a thing. A cake thing.

"Here, a friend gave me this."

Akane put down an empty teapot, then ducked back into the kitchen for the kettle and tea-leaves. She knew her own limitations. "His _boyfriend_."

"I never said that I agreed to marry him, jeeze, Akane! And anyway, this was given to be by a beautiful and scarily powerful woman."

Kasumi set down her work, and came over to help with the tea. "Your day sounds like it's been very busy, Ranma."

He shrugged, not sure he was ready for another cup of tea, really. It hadn't been _that_ long since Sophie had made him one after all. "Uh, not compared to usual actually. It's been a pretty slow day..." He leant back, and couldn't fight the slow grin that was spreading across his face. "Except I got cured, for good, too!"

He picked up some crumbly shambles of his serving of cake, taking a bite in the shocked silence of the room. "Oh hey, this is _really_ good." The cake was light, sweet, but not sickly so. Ranma wondered if he'd be able to visit Sophie again soon, and maybe ask her how he could get some more. It was really, really good.

"What the fuck? What do you mean, _cured?!_" Genma loomed over the low table, fists clenched and shoulders shaking with emotion. "How?! Where?!"

"Ah, not really sure, and I have no idea. But I did it myself, I think. I'm just, you know, that damn cool."

Everyone in the room seemed to slump at that. He knew for a fact that nobody believed him. They'd find out soon enough, of course. But in the silence Ranma felt a small twinge of worry. What would happen if others heard about it? He sure as hell wouldn't be able to simply lead a procession of cursed people to the maintenance cupboard door and just _hope_ that Calcifer could hear him knocking. He didn't want to make it seem like he'd be able to help anyone else, because he probably couldn't. Though from the skeptical look Akane was giving him, he didn't think _that_ would be too much of a problem.

"You think, huh?" Her voice was antagonistic. "Have you even tested to make sure it's worked, then?"

"Oh, no, hey, I guess I didn't." Ranma shrugged. "But I don't really need to, I know for sure it's stuck."

Akane snorted and smiled. "You do, do you? Jee, I'd be glad to have your faith in things."

"Hey, it's not faith, it's knowledge. I _know_ that I'm fixed. And it's a secret, that I won't be able to use for anyone else." He winced, as he thought about what that might mean. A steady stream of hopeful poor idiots, who would arrive angry and frustrated. It would be worse, in many ways, than if he'd never been cured. He was used to living with the curse, and though he was up for any fights that came his way, he didn't relish the idea of being under constant attack.

His thoughts were interrupted by the awful sensation of cold water on his scalp. Why people felt the need to start with his _head_, he never knew. They could pick a hand, a foot, something slightly less likely to embarrass him. Or at the very least, something that wouldn't end up getting wet hair in his eyes. And when it was hot water, it _hurt_. Not so much when he did it himself, but still... it was never fun, when it came as a surprise. He craned his neck, careful to keep his dripping fringe from dripping or getting into the corner of his eyes, and saw Nabiki standing behind him. Her arms were crossed, but her eyes were wide in shock.

"Shit, kiddo, you really are cured."

Ranma flicked some water back at her, entirely unimpressed. "Ya think?! I told you all, didn't I!" He shook the water out of his hair, and grinned widely. "I'm fixed, and free, and I am sure as hell never going into another women's bathroom again!"

"Oh, my son, I'm... overcome by this!"

Ranma eyed his very pleased and gushing father dubiously. "I did say that I couldn't do it for anyone else, Pops. Don't get too excited there."

There was a selfish, cruel glint to the crocodile tears in his father's eyes. "But Ranma, surely you can take me to see whoever it was that fixed you?"

He had to stop this here and now, really. He didn't like to think of what Sophie would be like, if her fury was turned on Ranma. He threw a punch, knowing it would be deflected, and that it would distract the old man for a second.

"Ha, you can't best me yet, brat!"

"Yeah, sure. I could take you, if I was really trying."

"Yeah, you're _always_ really trying." Akane's quiet murmur almost escaped Ranma's notice. Almost.

He opened his mouth to retort, but Nabiki beat him to it. "So what was that you were saying, about being completely unable to repeat something so basic that you've already done it yourself once?"

Genma shook his head, and stared at Ranma intently. "Yeah. Surely if you could do it to yourself, you could figure out how to cure your only father."

"Oh, like I shouldn't let you suffer for getting me cursed in the first place!" Ranma crossed his arms, and his legs, and sat in a huff. He knew he'd end up doing it. Trying, at least. But that didn't mean that he liked it. He'd get no gratitude or recognition at all, except for the usual halfwit nutjobs showing up. Not that he minded being known as one of the best fighters, and never having to travel _to_ the fight. It was a bit of a compliment, really. But still, a total pain in the arse.

"I bet you can't." Akane was smiling as she spoke. Ranma could see, he _knew_ she was baiting him. But if he backed out after something like that, he'd come across as a complete wimp. The only way to beat a coward's move like that was to follow through and beat the living shit out of their assumptions.

"Of course I can. Kind of. It's just applying it to _someone_ else. And stop fucking crying old man, I'll try, alright?" Ranma looked around the room. "But it isn't going to be now, It'll be hard enough without having a heckling audience."

There. He could _feel_ Akane's pout through the back of his head. Served her right, for that. He nodded to his father, and left the room. Headed to the Dojo itself, knowing that Genma would follow. He felt that he'd handled that pretty coolly.

His father's heft was something that would preclude the man from ever being a great martial artist. Sure, he could throw his weight around, use it to add oomph. But that only really worked when you were both standing there, agreeing to have a fight. In the real world, people didn't ask politely, or announce their presence. And agility, mobility, being able to get the hell out of dodge, those were all far more important in an Anything Goes mentality. There was a creak of the floor beneath Genma as he settled down on the floor.

Ranma sat down opposite the man, tried not to meet his eyes. This was going to be embarrassing, and he still had no idea if he'd be able to make it work for Genma. Sophie _had_ said that he'd done it all himself. But she'd talked to him, convinced him.

"So... yeah. Um. So it's not about the curse at all, really. I mean, it is. But it's about the curse convincing you. It's all your own energy, right? And as long as you're you, you're um... shit."

Ranma trailed off, feeling very baffled at himself. It made sense in his head. He _knew_ this. He tried again, this time looking into Genma's eyes. Maybe that would help?

"Sorry. Start again. So the curse is only as powerful as you let it be. It's all about how you see yourself. It's like... like it's channeling your energy in one direction, to make you be a Panda. So all you have to do is _know_ that you're not a Panda. If you know that with enough certainty and stubbornness, then nothing the curse can do will ever be enough to make you into one."

Genma nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That seems quite difficult. I'll try, I suppose."

Ranma sat awkwardly in silence, waiting for something, or maybe nothing at all, to happen. Genma shifted and then cleared his throat. "Uh, I guess I'll go check now."

Ranma was nearly certain of his failure, which more or less cinched the whole thing. If he wasn't confident, he sure as hell wouldn't have been able to convince anyone else. He swore under his breath, and looked down at his hands. He was going to be stuck trying, and failing, for god knew how long. It was a very depressing thought.

"Oh come on, you didn't expect that to work did you?" The high voice of the young boy sounded wrong. Now that Ranma had met Howl, and spent some time in his company, there were sure tells in Twinkle's face and manner of speech.

"Ho-- I mean, Twinkle. What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, and brushed off the shoulders of his very over-the-top jacket. "Sophie." He said in a dejected tone, as if that explained everything.

Ranma frowned thoughtfully. "But did she actually chase you out, or have you just run away in fear like a coward?"

Twinkle bristled and scowled at Ranma. "If you're going to be obnoxious, _boy_, I can go find another reality to spend the afternoon in."

"Oh, sure. Like you didn't come here just to see how I was getting on."

"You know, you're pretty damn arrogant for someone who was kidnapped by a toddler."

Ranma shrugged, and stretched lazily. "You're pretty henpecked, for all that you're supposed to be this great wizard. And you couldn't even fix a simple curse. I mean shit, _I_ could do that myself."

Twinkle raised an eyebrow, and gave Ranma a very amused look. "Well, you're not all the way there yet. Firstly, Sophie did all the organising for you. You can't expect what you were trying back there to work: that woman's had a lifetime of telling other people how to sort themselves out. Even if you _know_ that's one way to go about it, you sure as hell don't have the skills. You couldn't even find the words to convince Morgan that he.."

Thankfully Twinkle trailed off and didn't finish that sentence, as Genma returned to the dojo. He looked like a damp and very unimpressed panda. He made a mrmmph sound of disgust and sat very deliberately and heavily down opposite them on the floor. Ranma could tell that he was feeling put-out and dejected. He'd had enough false hope with his own curse, to recognise that feeling.

Twinkle smirked at Genma, but didn't introduce himself. He turned back to Ranma, and tapped a finger against his knee thoughtfully. "Anyway, like I said, no use trying to do this in a way that you can't control very well. You've got to pick a method that suits you better."

Ranma had to laugh at that. "All I'm really good at is this." he gestured at the dojo in general, and then found himself wondering if Howl knew about things like that. He seemed to come from a Western homeland, so maybe he didn't. "Unarmed combat, I mean. Which would be totally useless for that sort of thing."

Twinkle's young innocent sweet face stared, unmoving, at Ranma. "It would, would it? Fascinating. Could I see anyway?"

Ranma shrugged, and turned to his father, who was wearing a very confused expression for a panda. "Hey old man, up for a fight? This kid needs to be shown how _real_ men spend their time."

The panda just stared at Ranma, which probably meant something like "For fuck's sake, brat, when am I _not_ able to beat your arse into the dust?!"

Ranma really hated that arrogance about his father. "Yeah, right."

Twinkle snickered at that, and that distraction cost Ranma one bruise as a furry fist grazed past his cheek. "Sheesh, someone's pissed! I did try, you know! It's not my fault that you like to hide behind things."

Getting to matters seriously now, Ranma let his weight sit heavier on his knees, letting his joints flex loosely enough to be flexible and fast. He breathed in a rhythm, remembering one of the first lessons he'd ever learnt. You trained in patterns and to regular beats, but you fought to chaos. When you've established a pattern, people like to follow it. Without thinking or knowing, their bodies mimic it. Ranma was usually complete balls at using the trick on his father, but he did it reflexively. Establish rules to the fight with your speed and rhythm and stance. Then break them, and get that one-second lead. Enough to get the winning punch in. Genma didn't move at all. That was his trick: he loomed huge and solid and moved faster than you'd expect. Not very fast, but faster enough. The old man liked to play it dumb, and let nervous and confused opponents make mistakes before he moved. Helped them to make their mistakes worse with a step or block in the right place.

They kicked and blocked and punched a little, almost a familiar warmup now. But that wasn't going to be any help at all. Ranma began leading things into more complexity, misleading with one hit to force the man to expose a different area. Nobody scored any hits, of course, but something far better happened. Ranma was biting back a laugh at one of Genma's easily dodged feints - it was a trick that he'd used to teach Ranma some basic evasion techniques years ago - when he realised just how things were going to work.

Well, maybe not for every situation. But between him and his old man, for sure. It would work. It was how you taught people any sort of combat really, even things like chess and go. So it would _really_ work on Ranma's old man. Instead of trying to win against the geezer, Ranma aimed to draw him out. To provoke responses in him. To get the message across through the old man's own body, rather than words.

He aimed punches in more predictable patterns, leading Genma to use more textbook positioning for his blocks. They didn't fall into a pattern, because Ranma was nowhere near stupid enough to leave himself vulnerable to _that_ no-brainer trick. But they did establish an equilibrium of sorts. Open-palms and blocks from some of the first patterns that Ranma had ever trained in. Faster than words, faster than thoughts themselves, they were reacting. Trading off. Communicating. It didn't come as a surprise to Ranma, when they both backed off. It felt right, flowed right. He didn't really have the words to explain it, because it was beyond description. Using tension in his feet to spring backwards, Ranma kept his eyes locked on the shape of his father.

Who was, surprisingly enough, his father. Perhaps looking a bit fuzzy around the edges, but he was certainly not a panda at all. So it was working. Ranma wouldn't have been able to hold his grin back if he'd wanted to. He lowered his head a little, and threw himself into a headlong rush, aimed right at Genma. There was a slap of immovable flesh against his head, huge fingers curling around the shape of his forehead, jarring his bones right down to his toes.

"You're going to have to get up earlier than that to beat your old man, boy."

Ranma snorted and shrugged, and waited for the penny to drop. They backed down from their fighting stances, and Ranma rolled his head around on his neck. He'd be paying for that last impact for days, he knew. He thought longingly of the relaxing water of the bathtub, knowing it would be a few good hours before he'd get away with a real long soak.

"I'm... it's... and it all makes sense... Ranma, son... you've made me a prouder father today than ever before!"

"You know, you old wretch, I've done a whole heap of things that were way more impressive. But you're welcome. It's not easy, being as rad as I am."

The sound of Tinkle cackling and guffawing near the door to the garden soured Ranma's mood. He turned and glared at the small, sweet-looking boy. "Oh grow up"

Twinkle giggled then, and nodded silently. He took a few steps forward in which his legs seemed to swing out far further than his short frame would allow. His limbs stretched and his clothing changed, and when he had reached where Ranma and Genma were standing he had transformed entirely into the Wizard Howl.

"Showoff." Ranma smiled. "Anyway, why are you really here?"

Howl shrugged. "Missed out on the cake. Also, I was a little curious to see if you could do anything without prompting. It's in my interest to keep track of magically talented idiots, if only so that I know when I might have to clean up their messes."

"I'm _not_ magical, I'm just... er... well, I guess you could call it magic. But it's really just about fighting spirit and energy and all that, y'know? Nothing special."

Howl tapped a finger against his nose with a delighted smile on his face. "Really? I'll have to pay a lot more attention to this place then."

"Nice to meet you, whoever you are. But if you'll excuse me, I need to find a glass of water." Genma pushed past Ranma and Howl. His eyes were bright and eager. Ranma almost thought he could see a shaking tremor in the hand that reached for the screen door.

"You know, you don't need to double-check anything, you... ah hell, he's not going to hear me."

Howl raised an eyebrow, and turned his attention to the room with interest. "The question is, I suppose, if you're going to end up doing this for the rest of your life. I assume from some of the people I ran across on my way here that shapeshifting curses are pretty normal in this land?"

"Oh, hell. I hope not. Though if it's just people coming looking for a fight? That I face up to every day."

Howl's curiousity with the dojo seemed to be sated, and they made the short walk across the garden to the main building of the house. "Really? How wonderful!" Howl seemed genuinely excited. "I'd always thought that those kung fu films were complete and utter bollocks!"

Ranma gave Howl a very odd look. "I thought you came from another dimension, or something weird like that..."

Howl shrugged, and settled himself comfortably at the low table, stealing someone's plate without a second thought. "Oh yes, but I am naturally a Welshman by birth."

"Huh." That was perhaps the weirdest thing he'd heard all day.

Kasumi smiled, and inclined her head politely. "And you've come all this way to see Ranma? That's commendable."

Howl basked in it, and Ranma snorted into his teacup. "Yeah, I'm sure it is. Such a long way, really."

"If you like, I can bring Morgan here next week for a play-date." Howl was all smiles and niceness as he ate some cake and thanked Kasumi for the cup of tea she poured him. But Ranma felt a blank shock. Sure Morgan was a great kid, smart for his age and all, but if Ranma had any more plaintive fiancees hanging around he'd go completely mad.

"He...hehe. Nah, that's alright. You don't need to do that."

Howl laughed openly, and Akane got a very shrewd look in her eyes. "Ranma? Is Morgan your _boyfriend_ then? The one you were telling me about?"

"Why is it only _me_ who is worried about how inappropriate this all is? He's a toddler!"

Howl sighed and set his plate down carefully. "Well, it's time for me to go, I suppose. Or I'll be in worse trouble when I get back. And you don't need to worry about Morgan, Ranma. His mother explained about what husbands have to do. Mainly about having to do boring things, and giving his toys away to people who were unmarried."

"Aw poor Ranma, he's not as loved as Morgan's toys." Akane must have really been spoiling for a fight, Ranma reckoned, given the jeery cheerfulness of her voice.

"Hey, I don't mind. It means I have one less immature fiancee dragging me down. Tell you what, Akane, if you want to give up on me, I'm sure your Dad still has some stuffed cuddly bears around here. Maybe some matchbox cars?"

Ranma dodged her hand easily, leaning backwards. Howl cleared his throat, and Kasumi offered to show him out, but that was all as far away as the excited yelling from the kitchen, the sounds of the parents exclaiming over the cure. Nothing was as clear or real as the twisted and furious look on Akane's face. He felt a little awful when she drew in a quick breath and sat back, recovering herself and looking at the mess on the table.

She opened her mouth to speak, shut it, and then tried again. "Are you happier now that it's gone?"

He shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, it will make things a lot less confusing. And I won't miss the random arseholes groping me in the street..."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Wish I could leave things like that behind, sometimes."

Ranma shared a grimace with her, and stretched out his legs. "Now that you mention it, it might be a bit weird for a while."

They both felt a bit awkward, and didn't really know what else to say. They sat there in silence until Kasumi came back, and the chores and details of normal life rescued them from more serious thoughts.

- -

Howl was ready for something when he arrived home, but the stern look that Sophie gave him sure wasn't it. Sheepishly he took a seat near Calcifer's hearth and shared a worried glance with the fire demon.

"How bad is it?" He whispered. Calcifer didn't get a chance to answer, because Sophie's voice rang out clear and shrill.

"Oh it's pretty bad, Mr. Jenkins."

"Pendragon," he corrected automatically. She sniffed in that way that was so irritating and adorable and undeniably _Sophie_-like and bestowed upon him her We Are Serious Grown-Ups face.

"Howell, you agreed you'd try to discipline him."

"Well," he shuffled his feet, awkward all of a sudden. "I was busy keeping him out of trouble."

"You most certainly were not! We both know for a fact that you were just having your own fun."

Howl did his best not to pout, because Sophie always called him names when he did. Affectionate names, but names nonetheless. "Well, I..."

She sighed heavily, and shook her head. "I know it isn't easy, having to do all the hard parts of raising a child. But, well, _you_ were the one with nephews and nieces. _You_ were the one who said you'd be able to parent."

Howl smoothed her auburn hair down fondly and smiled sympathetically. He remembered how flummoxed she'd been, when Morgan was born and she'd felt like a fish out of water.

"Honestly, Sophie, nobody can _tell_ people to do things like you can. And you're good at telling people off, too; just think about all the experience you've had with me. You're so brilliant that I can hardly compare. It's why I don't even try."

She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't let my brilliance hold you back, dear. Honestly." But she didn't get angry, just nodded to herself once and relaxed in her chair, sharing a comfortable silence with Howl and Calcifer. In the end it was Calcifer who spoke, his voice crackling and shrieking occasionally as the wood beneath him burnt.

"Anyway, how'd that young man go?"

"Oh, him. Yes. Well, things have changed for him, that's for sure. But I'm not sure if it means he'll have an easier life."

Sophie rolled her eyes and leaned forward to heft another log into Calcifer's reach. "Easy is boring, so I'm sure he'll be grateful in the long run."

Calcifer thought that Sophie's concept of easy was maybe something very different to everyone else's, but he didn't say a word. It was nice just being there with his family.


End file.
